


firestorm

by Clementessa



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020), Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon Universe, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Smut, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unhealthy Relationships, sephdemption
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:55:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28782315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clementessa/pseuds/Clementessa
Summary: Post-Remake. After Sephiroth offers the team an uneasy truce, Aerith confronts him about their past.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough/Sephiroth
Comments: 29
Kudos: 66





	firestorm

**Author's Note:**

> A plot bunny turned PWP turned…this oneshot behemoth. When the world goes to shit, I write angst and smut, what can I say? Please handwave any plot-related inconsistencies. 
> 
> Specific CW: glove kink, fingering, light dom/sub undertones, Cloud/Aerith, allusions to Cloud/Tifa Highwind scene mainly for angst purposes (they're my NOTP but the things I do for angst).
> 
> Inspired by an idea that Aerith and Sephiroth remain in the Lifestream post-AC and this amazing Icarus [poem](https://wearealsoboats.tumblr.com/post/51761202038)

Aerith stood at the tiny kitchen window, a mug of cold coffee in hand, gazing out into the dark night. Not that there was much to see; the window was so clouded with grease and age that even the clearest of starry nights looked like a wall of black. She wondered if Bugenhagen ever cleaned it. Not that it mattered, really. She was too distracted, waiting.

Her exhaustion was bone-deep, but she was unable to keep still, toying with her necklace absently. If only she could blame it on the caffeine. No, it was _him,_ just down the hall, an itch she couldn’t scratch, a riddle she couldn’t solve.

Sephiroth had arrived in the early evening, with a sharp knock on the gate to the Cosmo Canyon Observatory. It was lucky that her and Tifa, not Cloud or Barret, had been the one to answer the door, else the evening would have a _very_ different ending. He’d tossed down his sword and requested a truce, citing the spread of the Jenova cells to Minerva, the manifestation of the planet. Jenova was a scourge, he insisted, had manipulated him from the beginning, and needed to be stopped.

Even if his intent was questionable, there was some truth in what he said. She could feel it in the Lifestream, a taint independent of Sephiroth, radiating from the planet’s center. And Bugenhagen’s data confirmed it—the planet was awakening the weapons and boiling its very core. An autoimmune response. Minerva was unwittingly completing the work of the calamity from the skies. If unchecked, Gaia would fall. And Jenova’s mission from the unknown would be complete.

Her mind whirled, not just with this, but with the events of the last week in the Forgotten City.

Where Sephiroth was supposed to kill her. Where he was _supposed_ to drop down from the sky and impale her with his sword.

And, because fighting Fate wasn’t so noble when you were just saving yourself, Aerith was going to _let_ him.

Only he didn’t. He let her go.

He followed them here.

He gave up his sword, let himself be chained to the bed like a prisoner.

_Why?_

Aerith inhaled again, trying to steady herself. Part of her needed to know—the other part feared the answer.

It still astonished her that this was her life. That memories of her past life somehow lived within her, memories of another Aerith whose tragic life and even more tragic mistakes weighed so heavy on her shoulders. She’d been handed all kinds of terrible shit in her lifetime—but this was the cruelest gift of all.

Maybe that’s why Tifa was so attentive lately. So insistent on sitting up late with her. Only an hour ago as Aerith relieved her of her Sephiroth guard shift, her friend had taken her hand, her brown eyes big and round. “You know you can tell me anything, right Aerith?” she asked. Tifa had the best instincts, if only she trusted them more often. Aerith wished she could tell her that.

But there were things people were better off not knowing. People like Tifa and Cloud and Barret and Red, who had whole lives ahead of them, who had the room for hopes and dreams, who could start afresh without the burden of being the last of their kind. Let her friends live their lives in peace. They didn’t need to know about Aerith’s fated death or the mysterious timeline reset or the inevitable slow decay of human life without the Cetra.

As for Aerith…well, tragedy was her birthright. She learned to live with it, honing her ability to deflect with sweetness and a smile.

Aerith dumped out her coffee into the sink. Tifa should be fast asleep by now. If she planned correctly, Aerith should be the only one left awake.

It was time.

She crept down the hall, her footsteps light, but the creaking of the wood floor seemed to echo wildly in her ears. Cloud’s room came first. She held her breath as she passed; he was the lightest sleeper of them all. Undoubtedly, he’d try to stop her, even if he had to throw her over his shoulder and drag her away kicking and screaming. Even though he pretended to be gruff and unfeeling, he cared so deeply that he would try to protect her at any costs. 

She loved him for it. She was certain she’d fall in love with him in every life she lived.

That’s what made the secret she kept— and what she needed to do—so painful.

She moved further down the hall, past the room Barret and Red XIII shared. Barret and Red were her rocks—literally and figuratively. Strong, dependable, and unwavering. The brothers she never had. She knew they’d be disappointed in her if they discovered the truth. She knew how they would look at her, wondering if they ever really knew her at all.

More often now, she found herself wondering the same thing.

Aerith arrived outside Sephiroth’s door. She’d thought so much about this. What she would say. What she would do. When. But now that she was here, she didn’t expect her doubts to be so crippling.

She could feel him through that bedroom door, like she always did. Before, he was an oil slick atop the Lifestream, spreading like a disease, destroying all he touched. Now, that inexplicable wrongness was contained, a time bomb in their midst.

She needed answers. But why did it feel like she was destined to light the fuse?

Aerith sighed, drawing in a shaky breath. Or maybe he _was_ telling the truth that he wanted peace, that he wanted to help. Was it so unbelievable? Was it so impossible?

Before she could think any longer on it, she tapped on the door. She held her breath, the quiet of the night almost unbearable. She shivered and pulled her jacket around her tighter. But it wasn’t the cold.

“Come in,” she heard. And when she released her breath, it was heavy, like it was pulled out of her. She straightened and drew her hands straight by her sides before she walked in.

The room had been Red’s before they’d stuck Sephiroth in it. It was one of the smallest rooms in the observatory with only a narrow bed, a desk at the foot and a bookcase running along the opposite wall. She wasn’t expecting it to be so small when she walked in, but she was sure her friends had chosen it on purpose. There was barely enough room for three people to stand side-by-side. There was no way Sephiroth could be comfortable here.

His flickering bedside candle was the only light in the room. He watched her from where he was chained to the head of the bed, his long legs, easily the length of the bed, splayed across the flimsy white sheets. His eyes were as green as mako itself. But gone were the cat-like pupils that made him appear more creature than man.

Her jaw nearly dropped. She hadn’t seen _those_ eyes for a very long time. She pressed her back to the door as she guided it to close silently, straining to hear if the others had awakened. Nothing.

They just stared at each other, her heart pounding in her ears. She never could read his expressions and this lifetime was no different.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said, not meaning a word. But she didn’t dare move any further into the room. There was barely two meters of space separating them.

He watched her with amusement. “I hardly sleep.”

“Really?”

His voice was flat as he turned away, his face hidden in shadow. “You know what Jenova cells do to human bodies. Imagine what it does to human nightmares.”

Aerith thought of the cloaked men in Midgar with skin the color of curdled milk—the failed test subjects of Hojo’s terrible Jenova experiments. They breathed as if simply existing was agony. She suppressed a shudder. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Do you?” he murmured seemingly to himself. Before she could even begin to answer, he blinked at her sleepily, like a cat. “I wondered when you’d come by for a chat. Although I must admit I didn’t think it would be so soon.” He looked at his hands to emphasize the chains around his wrists. “Or under these circumstances.”

“Did you think we’d welcome you with open arms?”

For a moment, there was a flicker in his expression, but it disappeared so quickly, she wondered if it had just been the light. He toyed with the chains thoughtfully. “I could break these, you know. With ease.”

Aerith swallowed hard. “I know.”

“Are they so scared of me?”

“A legendary war hero, presumed dead now insane… Can you blame them?”

He smiled and she knew he heard what she didn’t say. “Is that all I am?”

“You’re dangerous. We don’t trust you.”

“I know what you’re capable of,” Sephiroth scoffed. “Do they still not know? Are you still pretending to need a bodyguard?” He said the last word like it was bitter.

Her face burned. He always made her feel naked and she hated it almost as much as she hated him.

He searched her expression. “Ah, you are… Still so many secrets. And so desperate to belong.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” she snapped.

“Oh, I think I do. And it’s a waste. You’re so much more powerful than they give you credit for.”

How did he always manage to make her feel so strong and yet so degraded? “I know you too, Sephiroth,” she returned, stepping closer so she wasn’t tempted to scream the way she wanted to. The last thing she needed was to wake the others. “You’re a monster. You destroy everything you touch. Things like you don’t just grow consciences.” She stood at the foot of the bed, crossing her arms over her chest. “First Shinra, then Jenova…Who’s your new master now?”

Then he stood, with a lightness that belied his size, angrily. She’d forgotten how he towered over her; how formidable he was. She realized her mistake immediately but if she stepped back now, she’d lose, and she couldn’t afford it—not with him.

His eyes seemed to glow in the dark. “You speak as if you don’t have chains of your own.”

She tilted her chin up to meet his stare. “At least I own mine. I serve the planet and I’m proud of it.”

Sephiroth shook his head in astonishment. “Are you so eager to die?”

Aerith blinked, off balance at how deeply it cut. Of course, she didn’t want to die. But it was the right thing to do. Wasn’t it? “Is that why you didn’t kill me? At the Forgotten City. You had the chance, and you didn’t take it. You ran. Why?”

“Interesting. People usually aren’t upset when their lives are spared.”

She didn’t reply, knowing she’d give herself away. The only thing she could do was glare at him with defiance and so she did so with relish.

“It’s not too late,” he said finally, stepping closer to her with a deadly sort of grace, the snap of the chains keeping him out of reach. “I could still oblige you.”

“Is that all you are? A blunt instrument?” She taunted, knowing that his sword and materia were locked up in Cloud’s room.

His green eyes drifted to her neck, longingly. It made her hot to be beneath that gaze. “All I need is my hands. Just a few seconds, just a little squeeze…” He murmured, his voice smooth like the edge of a blade.

It wouldn’t take much for him to kill her. He was so much bigger than her; just one hand was enough to circle her neck. And she knew the strength in his body like she knew her own. It made her want to vomit.

Aerith tried to control her breathing as she did what every animal instinct screamed at her not to. She stepped towards him, well within arm’s reach, until she was staring up at him. He was tall, even on tip toes she only reached his clavicle, and his shoulders were impossibly wide, like he could crush three of her in his grasp. She could feel the heat roiling from him, she could see every detail on his leather suspenders in the candlelight, every inch of his sculpted chest.

But the way he looked at her. This wasn’t a trick of the light. Was it true then?

Had they been lovers in their last life? 

She swallowed hard. “Then do it,” she said, her voice steady, and she’d never been so grateful for her composure.

His eyes flashed. His stare spoke volumes, caressing her cheek, then the curve of her neck, down to her flower necklace, and even further to the V of her dress. His lips parted, almost like he was drugged, as he brought his gloved hand to her neck. The leather squeaked when his fingers twitched, hesitating just a few centimeters away.

She swore she could feel it anyway. Her body burned like his hands were hot all over her. Like her body remembered him.

And then he turned away from her with almost a gasp, the chains clinking as his hands clenched at his sides. He didn’t look at her.

“I can’t and you know it.” He said it like he hated her. And maybe he did.

The feeling was mutual. “So, it’s true,” she gulped, breathing hard, pacing in the little space between the bed and the bookcase. She had prayed for it to be a lie or manipulation. For it to be a mistake. But she could feel her nipples pebbled against her dress and jacket, like a betrayal.

He turned to her sharply, his hair blocking view of his face. “Can’t you feel it in the Lifestream?” He asked mockingly.

She ignored him, clutching her temples in disbelief. “You _killed_ me! And now we were fucking too? It’s impossible! It’s ridiculous! It’s—”

“Is it, truly?” He asked quietly.

She stared, the air suddenly still around them. The unexpected softness in his voice. The way he still hid his face from her. Was he…hurt? And then her jaw dropped.

Were those…feelings?

And then the room spun as the memories rose up and snatched her away.

* * *

_She watched him from afar. Time passed strangely in the Lifestream. She didn’t know how long she watched, but she could sense his longing._

_He scrutinized the Lifestream as it flowed past the shore, the glow of it matching his eyes. He could swim in it, he could drown in it, but he’d never rule it, not as she did, not as long as Jenova lived on in him._

_She recognized his expression—that desire to be a part of something that could never be. It was so familiar both in life and in death._

_So, she watched._

* * *

_“Was it all worth it?” She asked, one day, curiosity burning in her. “Will your name be remembered now?”_

_He sat on the shore, looking lost. His gaze flickered to her, as sharp as a knife. But he remained silent, perhaps out of spite._

_Finally, she stood in understanding. It was so easy to die, to blink out of existence; much harder to live on, forever ruminating on what had been._

_As she walked away, she heard it, faint, little more than a whisper:_

_“No.”_

* * *

_He watched her, unwaveringly. His presence was everywhere. Annoying, like an itch she couldn’t scratch._

_“Leave me alone!” She snapped at him._

_He shrugged at her. “Where am I supposed to go?”_

_She stopped after that. It was useless. There was no other place. It was the end of the line for him. It was his purgatory._

* * *

_She cried, sometimes. She’d done so much good. She’d help so many return to the Lifestream. Zack, Jessie, Wedge, even President Shinra. It was fulfilling work and she saw the fruits of it._

_But it was lonely. So damn lonely._

_To watch the people she loved move on. Elmyra braiding Marlene’s hair the way she used to braid Aerith’s. Cloud kissing Tifa, and then others, the way Aerith had so longed to be kissed._

_She died to save the world. She succeeded. She wanted her friends to be happy. And they were._

_So why was she so miserable?_

_“He was always an idiot,” Sephiroth said, from over her shoulder. “Even when he was a foot soldier.”_

_She wanted to slap him. “He’s allowed to move on. He’s human.”_

_“_ I _would_ _never forget you.”_

_Aerith turned, stunned._

_Sephiroth was gone._

* * *

_“It’s using you,” he said, watching. “The planet. To do its dirty work.”_

_“Just like Jenova used you?”_

_“We are nothing but chess pieces in the grand universe, you and I.”_

_“Everyone uses everyone,” she replied dismissively._

_“Except you.”_

_“Even me.” Aerith shook her head. “Especially me.”_

_“This surprises me.”_

_“It shouldn’t. We all do what we must to survive.”_

_He watched her, thoughtfully. “At least we know, with each other.”_

_She smiled. “Do we?”_

* * *

_“Was it worth it?” He asked, one day. “Valiantly running off to your death.”_

_“Yes,” she replied, “and no. But…if I had to do it again, I’d live. I’d fight Fate.” She looked at him. “I’d fight_ you _.”_

_He raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I expected you to lie.”_

_“Why would I lie to you? Anything I’ve done, you’ve done worse.”_

_“So, is this your nightmare or mine?”_

_She laughed._

* * *

_The first time it happened, they laid on the shore together, shoulder to shoulder, gazing at the endless sky._

_“The more time I spend here, the more I don’t know.”_

_She turned her head to look at him. “What?”_

_“If what I did was for me…or for her.”_

_Aerith shrugged. “You’ve always had Jenova in you. What changed?”_

_The muscle in his jaw clenched. “Everyone left.”_

_She thought about what it would be like if she didn’t have Elmyra. If it had just been her against Shinra. Against the world. It would have been a terrible fate, worse than death. “It’s easy to lose your way when you’re the last one. The only one,” she said._

_He was silent for a long time. Eventually, she stood and walked to the shore, ready to return home to the Lifestream._

_He took her wrist. She turned to him, questioningly. He’d never touched her before. She didn’t know he could._

_“Don’t go,” he said, his eyes glittering. Such sadness. It was like looking into a mirror. “Please.”_

_Aerith didn’t hesitate. She nodded._

_And then he pressed his lips against hers, soft and warm._

_She kissed him back._

_It was good to not be alone._

* * *

_She had always been captivated by fire. How it gave life. How it took it. Nothing embodied the cycle of the Lifestream more._

_Maybe that’s why he fascinated her. His touch was scorching and greedy. Always. Whether he kissed her forehead or her thighs. He touched her like he wanted to own her, consume her._

_There was a bitter triumph in setting herself aflame. She was never as alive as when she crumbled to ashes in his arms._

* * *

She found herself sitting on the bed in the room, shaking. 

_No, no, no, no—_

Sephiroth watched her, kneeling at her feet. His eyes—the way he looked at her—it was the same as it had been in the memories. She wanted to cry. “Aerith—”

“Don’t,” she gasped. “Just. Don’t.” And then she closed her eyes, shutting him out of her sight. If only it were that easy to push him out of where he lodged himself in her head and heart. She clutched her necklace and tried to breathe.

_That_ was why those memories had been the first that the Whispers had taken from her. Even the planet knew how wrong it was.

She opened her eyes and found him staring. He was always watching her, wasn’t he? In this life and the last. She searched his expression. He almost completely unreadable still, except for the one thing he couldn’t contain.

Worry.

Feelings. He had them. For her, no less. It hit her like a bolt of lightning.

“Is that why you’re here?” Her heart pounded in her ears, her own voice seeming so far away. “Because of me? Because you couldn’t kill me?”

He finally tore his gaze away from her. “Are we ever our own masters? Shinra, Jenova, Fate,”—his eyes darted back to her, like a knife to her neck—“You.” He smiled bitterly. “I’m tired of being the puppet.”

She rose to her feet, insistent. “You know this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.”

Everything about him was severe. The slant of his eyebrows, the bold ridges of his cheekbones, his impossible silver hair. He was all hardness and sharp edges. Everything, always—except this moment, except his eyes, so soft in the flickering candlelight. Like after all this time, the facade had worn away, and she could finally glimpse what lay beneath.

Even though a voice in her head screamed at her to run away, as far away as she possibly could, Aerith stayed rooted, spellbound.

It was like she could see though him, into him. Not the war hero, the legend, the enemy. But Sephiroth, the man.

In that same moment, something solidified in his gaze, like finding something he’d lost.

“I don’t care how it’s supposed to be.” He touched her cheek with his knuckle, gentler than she ever expected from him. “I’ll break the planet if I have to.”

Aerith tried to look away—couldn’t. All she could feel was the pull towards him, cold and unyielding, as if she were the one chained.

She drew in a breath, her legs quivering, her mind foggy with his touch and—him. When she realized how it must be written all over her, she skirted around him, quickly backing away towards the bookshelf to put distance between them.

But it was too late. Triumph and raw possession burned in his eyes.

Sephiroth smirked. “Does he know?”

There was only one person who stood between them, who somehow tied them together. “Of course not. I couldn’t tell him you killed me,” she muttered, panicked at the way her body responded to him. The lies she told herself were useless now. No, the fire burned wild within her, ignited from that very moment she’d laid eyes on him at the Observatory gate.

For every step back she took, he stepped forward until the chains pulled at him and, for the briefest moment, she hoped they would contain him. But it was too easy the way he separated the metal links from the shackles around his wrist until he was free. Casual, as the chains slipped out of his grasp and onto the carpet.

“About _us_ , _”_ he said, stalking towards her leisurely, unhurried, a predator who knew he’d catch his quarry.

“There is no us _._ ” Her voice sounded unconvincing even to her ears. Her back hit the bookshelf. It would bruise but she didn’t care. She couldn’t look away, not even to escape, even though she had time. She could scream, she could scramble to the door. But she didn’t even try.

“Are you certain about that?” He asked, stopping just a scant few inches apart from her, towering over.

Aerith swallowed hard, her mouth dry as she stared up at him. His gaze was a cocktail of desire and obsession, like she was a drug. The truth was, it was heady, to know she made him feel that way. To know she had such power over him. To feel his warm breath fan against her face and know she was the reason he was panting, the reason he stood so close, wanting something he couldn’t have. Pure adrenaline.

She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. It was twisted. He’d _killed_ her. This was her second chance at life—she couldn’t give it up.

But it all seemed so far away. He was a storm, and she was at his mercy. She was so wet, already, and he’d barely even touched her.

Even as her mind screamed at her to run, her body reached for him. She brushed his lips with her fingertips. They were impossibly soft. But familiar. “I don’t know anything anymore,” she said, her voice throaty, foreign.

He took her wrist, his touch lighter than a feather, and pressed those lips against her fingertips, her palm, her skin burning at the contact. “You’re a pest,” he murmured. He pressed another kiss to the underside of her wrist. She couldn’t help closing her eyes—she was going to combust at the feel of him. “You always find a way to get under my skin.” He drew close, placing another on her collarbone and then atop her pulse point, gooseflesh prickling all the way down her arm. “You make me so weak. So human.” He hovered over her lips now, his hot breath making her shiver. “It’s your turn,” he whispered. She tilted her head up in anticipation.

And then he kissed her, those lips unforgiving, searing. She pulled him in tight, her arms wrapping around his neck, clawing into his soft hair. Oh yes. Her body remembered this, as she arched into him, finding the places where she fit just so against his hard body.

His kisses were filthy, all tongue, but they were exactly what she craved. He pinned her against the shelves with his chest, one knee parting her thighs. His hands dove underneath her jacket and cupped her breasts roughly, brushing his thumbs over her nipples, teasing.

She moaned against his mouth, trying to muffle them. The realization—the reminder—of why she needed to muffle them, made her pull away suddenly.

He growled in response and then he stroked her center through her dress. It was a painfully transparent distraction if she thought about it. But she wasn’t thinking, was she? She was feeling, she was gasping. Her body shuddering; her hips canting towards him. She was inexplicably sensitive, and it took every ounce of self-control not to beg for more.

He watched her with those greedy eyes. “If you tell me to stop, I will. But I don’t think you want to.” He stroked her again and again. And she realized that it wasn’t because she was sensitive. It was his gloves. It was—

She closed her eyes, trying to think. What she was doing was forbidden, it was wrong, but it was so good, and she was already so close—

“Don’t stop,” she muttered into his chest, hiking up her skirt for him. The feel of his skin, his smooth hard chest beneath her fingers only urged her on. “Don’t stop.”

Sephiroth slipped his hand around her panties and touched her in earnest. The feel of his leather gloves against her wetness, against that sensitive bundle of nerves nearly made her come right then and there. But then he stopped, gazing at his wet gloves with a strange curiosity. “They’re going to smell of you, you know. All night, they’ll drive me crazy thinking of you. Do you like that? Do you like marking me?”

She nodded limply, lost in his eyes, blown wide with lust. His gloves, his words, made what they were doing more illicit. This was dangerous, _he_ was dangerous, but she didn’t care. She was the only one who could do this to him, to bring him here, bring him home. And he was the only one who could make her feel like this, so wild, so thoroughly debauched. “Yes, Sephiroth, yes,” she moaned, sending his pauldrons tumbling to the floor. She kissed the skin she revealed, hungry for more, for everything.

When her hands scrambled for his belt, he pinned them over her head with one hand, and his other hand never stopping the circles he traced against her clit. She was so close to coming, and somehow, he could tell because he stopped teasing her, leaving her hot and panting.

“I like you like this,” he whispered into her ear. He pressed bruising kisses from her lips down to her neck, her hardened nipples rubbing torturously against him with each one.

“Please,” she begged him, grinding herself against his thigh, desperately seeking release. To be so out of control—she didn’t know it would feel like this. So good. So free.

“As you wish,” he murmured, releasing her hands. He clawed her jacket and the straps of her dress and bra down to her elbows in one swoop, freeing her breasts but binding her arms back down to her sides. It took everything in her to not cry out as he dipped his mouth down to a nipple and sucked hard. All the while, he slipped one finger, and then two, inside her.

“You’re so wet,” he muttered into her skin, like it was a curse, flicking her nipple with his tongue. Closing her eyes, tilting her head back against the shelf, she could hear the lewd slap as he thrust into her.

His fingers were so big, and she already felt so full, she didn’t know how it was possible for it to feel any better. But it did, oh it _did_ as he slid in a third finger and hit spots she’d never found on her own. The tension built inside her, notch by notch, until even she was astonished by her moans, how loud, how wanton they sounded. She bit down on his shoulder to stifle them, delirious.

The pain seemed to egg him on. “What a fine mess you are.” Although her arms were bound to her sides by her jacket, she clung to him harder, her nails digging into his forearms. He took in her expression ravenously. “You’re glorious, Aerith. Imagine them seeing you like this.”

It both scared and aroused her that they might get caught, that the others would find her like this, breasts hanging out of her dress, getting fucked against a wall. Inexplicably, it compounded the pleasure, even though her face and neck were flushed hot.

He was just a man, wasn’t he? How could it be so wrong? And even if it was—

She was already damned. What was a little more?

“They’ll find us, and they’ll know you’re mine,” he whispered, finding her lips, and kissing her so hard it blurred the edge between pain and pleasure. He pressed his sculpted body against her, like he couldn’t get enough, and the shelves dug into her back but even that made her moans louder. “All mine,” he growled, and he seemed to like the thought because he fucked her faster until suddenly, she was on the edge, staring at the freefall.

And when he teased her clit with his thumb, all without missing a damn stroke of his fingers, she tumbled straight over.

Her vision turned into a field of silver shards as the orgasm burst through her, her toes curling. He was all but holding her up with the knee he’d lodged between her thighs, but he didn’t seem to care. His eyes never left hers.

She would never forget how he looked at her, like he owned her, like he’d take care of her, no matter what.

But even then, in the afterglow of what they had done, she knew it was nothing more than a dream. Even as he held her chin in his hands and pressed her against his chest, she knew.

They were an abomination of the laws of nature, of predator and prey. Cursed, the both of them, doomed from the minute he’d impaled her with his sword. Doomed from the moment she remembered it.

He kissed her, impossibly gentle, like she was something that would shatter. But when he pulled away, he knew it too. He could see it on her face.

She squeezed her eyes shut, like the darkness would be enough to hide what they’d—she’d—done. It made it easier to say what she needed to.

“Sephiroth—”

“Don’t,” he muttered against her hair, holding her tighter. His erection was still insistent against her stomach; he hadn’t even tried to seek release. She didn’t want to think about what it meant. 

“—This was a mistake. It can’t happen again.” She shook her head, promising herself, “It won’t.” With effort, she drew her eyes past his soaked glove, the swollen red bite marks on his shoulder, the disarray of armor and chains at their feet. She pulled away from him and he let her, even though his hands flexed as if he wanted to grab her again.

“You know it’s not,” he insisted. “You’ve waited for this. Like I have.”

She focused on drawing the straps of her dress back onto her shoulders, vainly smoothing the skirt. She couldn’t meet his gaze. She couldn’t bear to see him like this, she couldn’t bear to be herself right now, knowing what she’d done, knowing her friends were sleeping down the hall and she was fucking the enemy. What would they think of her? And Cloud—?

Her stomach lurched. But it was no one’s fault but hers. Even if she couldn’t remember, she’d _known_ and knocked on the door anyway.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said, staring, surprised at the ache in her chest. She knew what she had to say but dreaded it all the same. It should’ve come easier; she hated him, didn’t she? “I have too much to lose, this time.”

The fury in his voice was barely controlled. “Like what? Your little friends? The ones you hide from. Do they even know you?”

She flinched. They’d turn their backs on her, she knew. All of them. The minute they found out about the memories she had and never told them. The minute they found out about Sephiroth. About tonight. She’d lose…everything.

“Or do you mean dear sweet Cloud?” His voice was cruel and cutting. “Always the hero, even after he fucked your _friend_ right after you died. Didn’t take him long to move on, while you pined away in the Lifestream.”

She turned from him, unable to catch her breath. She never blamed Cloud for moving on, not really, and yet each word pierced her chest. She pictured the horror on his face when he found out about what she’d done with Sephiroth. He would never look at her again like he always had before, his eyes so soft, so certain.

“Such loyalty for people who would turn their backs on you in a heartbeat,” Sephiroth snarled.

“You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to talk about turning your back on people!” she snapped back, pushed to her limit. “You burned whole villages, you slaughtered innocents, you gave up _everything_ that made you human!”

His eyes darkened. “I did. But I _never_ forgot you!”

Her jaw dropped. The silence was thunderous. He looked furious, like he wanted to take them back.

Part of her wanted—

Part of her _wished_ —

But it was impossible, wasn’t it? If she believed in wishes, she was living the wrong life.

She reached for his hands. What a funny thing it was to do.

His hands were so wide, the size of both of hers. She tugged off his gloves and cradled his hands. They were warm, muscled, and hard with calluses and old scars.

If she closed her eyes, she wouldn’t have known that they belonged to him. If she closed her eyes, he was just a man, with perfect hands she could lace her fingers through.

But he wasn’t, was he? He was cruel, selfish, and insatiable. He represented everything she hated. Her absolute opposite. Her shadow.

The truth was, he would never be just a man. Not to her. No matter how she tried, no matter how she wished it so. With the two of them, there would always be an end. Just as they were destined to spark; even the most violent infernos burned down to ash.

She raised his hand to her lips and kissed his knuckles, a kiss there instead of where she truly wanted to kiss him, a kiss she knew she could walk away from.

“You should’ve killed me, Sephiroth,” she said. It rocked her how deeply she meant it.

The clarity she saw in his eyes—that he let her see in him—faded. Maybe he understood. She hoped he did.

She let him go. It physically hurt, like another fresh stab to her chest. Were these the old Aerith’s feelings? Or hers? Did it matter?

He stood ominously still, surrounded by the fallen pieces of his armor, frozen in time.

She couldn’t guess what he was thinking. But she would always remember the look in his eyes as she closed the door behind her. Like the twisting of a knife.

It was almost something like…regret.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not much of a multi-shipper, but they just had too much angsty enemies-to-lovers potential. Ever since I heard the rumors that Sephiroth was originally supposed to be Aerith's first love in the OG, I knew I had to write them. I wish I could've incorporated more elements of a full love triangle with Cloud/Aerith/Sephiroth but perhaps in my next project ;D


End file.
